


Weight

by orphan_of_oz



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Claustrophobia, Comfort/Angst, F/F, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_of_oz/pseuds/orphan_of_oz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She is trapped, walled in on all sides by unyielding stone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weight

She is trapped, walled in on all sides by unyielding stone. Somehow there is a staggering sense of heaviness above her and at the same time yawing distance below; without seeing it, she knows that the encircling stone continues on in both directions, endless. The weight of a thousand staring eyes makes it impossible to even breathe as fear lances through her stomach, chest, and throat like spears, piercing her with the sickening knowledge that at any moment, her invisible, omnipresent jailers could, for no reason and with no consequences, rip away her mind, her soul, her very existence, and be praised by the rest of the world.

 

Cold, sharp metal points close on the back of her neck, and dread rises thick and fast, nearly smothering her. Desperate, panicking, she looks around for help, and her gaze falls on Cullen and Cassandra.

 

Please, she cries, reaching towards them.

 

Cullen’s lip curls in a sneer; Cassandra’s eyes are chips of ice.

 

With a casual flick, he twists away all the power, all the influence she’s spent her life gathering, and the Seeker presses the burning point of her sword between her eyes.

 

She screams with all her might, but no sound comes out.

 

Her mother’s voice rings suddenly in the air around them, as unsympathetic as the day she untangled her daughter’s trembling hands from her skirts and thrust her away from everything she’d ever known.

 

Do not upset the balance of power, my child. Their deaths will fall upon your head.

 

The gauntleted hand on her neck scrapes downward, tearing her robe, while another snakes around her naked side to splay against her belly as armor presses solidly against her back and a plated knee nudges the backs of her thighs -

 

Josephine jerked, a soft pressure on her shoulder shaking her into wakefulness. She thrust herself away from the touch, gasping for air as she fought to sit up, to find an escape from her prison.

 

It took her a moment to realize she was in the Inquisitor’s chambers, in the Inquisitor’s bed. Across the room, the fire burned low, embers casting scant warm light in contrast to the wash of starlight that poured through the open balcony door. The chill air against her sweat-dampened skin brought her back to herself, and she turned to the woman beside her.

 

Her lover was holding up her hands, fingers spread and palms empty, as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her brown eyes, almost black in the shadow, were huge.

 

"I’m sorry," she whispered, horror and guilt warring in her tone. "Josephine, I’m so sorry. That shouldn’t have- I couldn’t- I was trying, but I can’t ever break-"

 

"I do not understand." The way her voice trembled and cracked was unnerving; it had been years since Josephine last heard herself sound so small. "What was that?"

 

"A dream. Nightmare. One of mine. I saw you there, in the Fade, in my dream, but I couldn’t get to you. They never break, the walls, I’ve tried for years. Too strong. Never any doors." A strange, choking laugh burst through the mage’s frantic babbling, and she clapped her hands over her mouth. "Maker.  _Maker_. Nightmare’s been using you since Adamant, but never like this. Never like this.” Another giggle, high and bitter and a little hysterical, exploded through her fingers. “Maker, Leliana was right. I’m only ever going to hurt you.”

 

Abruptly she threw off the covers, but Josephine reached out and grabbed the younger woman’s forearm before she could get up.

 

"Don’t you dare," the diplomat demanded shakily. "Don’t you dare leave me here alone, Adair Trevelyan, not when I need you."

 

Bewildered, Adair stared at her. “But-“

 

"Come back. Please."

 

Josephine had known about the Inquisitor’s nightmares ever since - Haven. Since Adair had faced down Corypheus alone to give them all time to escape, since they’d found her wandering through the snow hours later and the screams as she awoke from exhausted sleep echoed through the camp. Solas had managed to quiet her before she unnerved too many of the survivors, and Leliana had put it about that Andraste’s herald was simply delirious and dreaming of the darkspawn magister.

 

But Cullen and Cassandra’s drawn, tight-lipped expressions and the way Mother Giselle firmly steered them away from Adair’s tent had set off warning bells in Josephine’s head. It took her several days to ferret out the tale, but on the journey to Skyhold, the entirety of it came out.

 

Like every mage, Adair consciously walked the Fade in her dreams, but unlike most, demons did not dog her every step. Instead, she was plagued with nightmares. They came every evening without fail, no matter whether she was in base or in camp. She dreamed only once a night, but afterwards sleep did not come easily. Any draughts she tried either trapped her longer in the dream or disrupted her connection to the Fade, crippling her magic for at least a day.

 

She rarely screamed, but the presence of…templars, or those with templar training, made the dreams worse. When Cassandra accompanied her on missions, Adair placed her bedroll as far from her friend as she could, or did not sleep. If Cullen was anywhere nearby, rest was impossible.

 

All the other advisors, Josephine found, had learned this soon after the Breach, when poor Adan had run himself ragged trying to keep the mage alive. Since Josephine was not “part of the problem,” Leliana had said, no one had thought to tell her. It was a dangerous secret, after all, and the Inquisition already had enough trouble. Besides, the Herald never let her dreams or lack of sleep affect her work. As spymaster, of course, Leliana had sussed everything out as soon as it happened.

 

Once they settled in Skyhold, Adair’s nightmares were apparent only in her late-night appearances in Josephine’s office (she often came bearing tea - they’d talk or sit in companionable quiet as Josephine worked on reports and the mage read) or brief disappearances around midday (when pressed, Leliana admitted that the Inquisitor was napping in a sunny patch in the rookery, where she did not dream, and swore Josephine to secrecy).

 

It had been those visits and those disappearances that had lead to their relationship, truly. Josephine had gotten to know the woman under the blunt, harsh mask of Inquisitor during their talks, and Adair’s customary disappearances had given them time to sneak off alone, with no one the wiser. Except Leliana, the insufferably overprotective busybody, who would of course disapprove of anyone Josephine chose to spend personal time with.

 

After the duel, after their confessions and new closeness, Josephine had known the Inquisitor had dreamed only when she woke to find her lover pressed tight to her side, head tucked under Josephine’s chin, clinging to her and breathing deep, in and out, in and out, in careful, unnatural measures. Usually kisses and gentle touches were enough to help her drift off, but this? This was…new.

 

"Are you sure?" Adair looked almost frightened to touch her.

 

And somewhat horrific.

 

This might explain why the younger woman placed such intense focus on consent, why she had been so terrified after casting the barrier spell that saved Josephine’s life - because she had magicked her without asking. Until this moment, Josephine had thought the younger woman’s worry a little silly.

 

They had never spoken of the contents of the mage’s dreams before. Josephine wondered if perhaps they should start.

 

"Yes."

 

Carefully, giving her time to pull away if she desired, the Inquisitor moved back toward her lover and gathered her into her arms.

 

"I’m so sorry," she repeated brokenly as Josephine buried her face in her shoulder. "I tried to wake you. I tried everything I could think of. I love you so much, and I never meant for this to happen. I’m so sorry."

 

They stayed that way, holding tightly to each other and letting the contact soothe raw nerves, until the night air began to make them shiver in earnest and the mage let go to draw the heavy blankets back around them both.

 

When Adair settled again, Josephine reached out to cup her lover’s face. The younger woman leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering shut.

 

"Are they always like that?" the ambassador asked softly, brushing her thumb across a fine cheekbone. Adair hummed tiredly and shook her head, pain almost imperceptibly twisting her features.

 

"No. There are…different ones. And it changed, I think, to fit you and, and  _Maker_ , Josephine, I’m so-“

 

"My darling, stop. It was not your fault." She hesitated before adding, quiet but determined, "It was never your fault."

 

Adair’s eyes popped open and found Josephine’s at once, surprise and embarrassment and anger flickering through her gaze.

 

"I-… That didn’t-" She pulled back and raked a hand through shoulder-length black hair, chewing her lip. "She never raped me," she ground out. "The templar. She just- Touched me. Sometimes. Drained my mana. Said…things. Never past what you-" Adair exhaled shakily, breaking away from Josephine’s gaze to stare out the balcony door. "It’s just…the threat. They can do worse. They did worse, to the Tranquil. Made them Tranquil. To other mages, who didn’t- Didn’t have, people, family with money, like I did." A small, very bitter bark of laughter. "Compared to them, I was untouchable."

 

"Still, it wasn’t your fault."

 

"Ostwick was sedate," Adair hissed into the dark. " _Sedate_ , they said. Because no one disrupted the status quo, that’s why. I could have- I told her, the First Enchanter. She was my mentor. My teacher. Might as well have been my mother. She said to  _let it be_ , that I’d get people hurt. I sent my family letters anyway. No one said anything. Or maybe they didn’t get them. Templars got rid of them. Sedate.  _Hah_.” Fresh tears started to fall from the mage’s eyes, and she swiped them away angrily before Josephine could even pull herself together enough to think of a response to such an enormous reorientation of her concept of Circle life.

 

"Anyway." The Inquisitor cleared her throat. "I’m sorry. I never wanted to burden you - anyone - with this. It’s my-" She shook her head, muttering under her breath. "And Nightmare chose spiders? Really? There are so many worse- It’s my load to bear. I can ask Solas if he knows anything about dream interactions between-"

 

"You don’t have to," interrupted the ambassador fiercely, searching for her lover’s hand under the blankets and gripping it tight with both of her own. "You don’t have to do this alone, Adair."

 

Dark eyes, red and puffy and utterly shocked, stared at her, skeptical.

 

"Josie-"

 

"Don’t ‘Josie’ me. I am stronger than you think, my lady. I love you, too, and I would not see you suffer so. It might help, I think, to share it, and even if…even if it does not, you will not be alone in it."

 

Adair kissed her, hard and sudden and desperate, the fingers of her free hand threading through the Antivan’s long, unbound hair. Josephine kissed her back, with just the same amount of desperation. There were so many things she wanted to convey in that kiss, things she wasn’t sure she could ever put into just the right words, even with all her years of diplomatic experience. This was outside her typical realm, but by Andraste, she was going to try.

 

When they broke apart, breathing hard, the ambassador rested her forehead against her lover’s, eyes closed.

 

"Are you sure?" the younger woman asked again, soft and with the most breathless amount of hope. "It’s going to hurt you, darling, and I don’t want-"

 

A quick press of her lover’s lips to hers cut the Inquisitor off.

 

"I am," Josephine murmured, "although…we do need to talk about this. Understanding, no matter how small, is often the first step towards negotiation. And I would like to understand.”

 

The Inquisitor shifted, taking a deep breath and letting it go. “All right. Just…not now, please. Tomorrow, maybe? Or- Whenever works for you. I mean, I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I know you’re busy.”

 

“I believe it was you who said the world can survive without the two of us now and then, hmm?” Hearing her own words turned back on her surprised Adair into a grin, and she kissed the ambassador again, thoroughly.

 

“I did, didn’t I?” she sighed as they pulled apart. “Tomorrow it is, then.” Her bright expression faded a little, then, and trepidation crept back in. “But… I mean it when I say it’ll hurt, Josie.”

 

“I don’t care,” whispered Josephine, the sheer amount of steely ferocity in her voice making her inquisitor startle and stare at her with something akin to reverence. “It is worth a little pain, darling, if I can take from you some of this weight.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s note: I just really wanted to play with the idea of mages and dreams, and what might happen when a non-mage and a mage are in a relationship. Also, Josephine taking the view of her as someone who always needs protection and kicking it in the fucking face. ~~also seriously the circle CANNOT be a psychologically healthy place to grow up~~


End file.
